


lips of wine in the morning

by intertwiningwords



Category: The End Of The Fucking World (TV)
Genre: Drunk Kisses, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, who knows then this takes place...certainly not me, with just a dash of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 14:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intertwiningwords/pseuds/intertwiningwords
Summary: alyssa is wine drunk, and james is awkward. what else is new?





	lips of wine in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> i started re-watched this show b/c i wanted to show my boyfriend and i wrote this whole fic on a discord call with him uwu

The sun had set before, but now it's rising again.

They'd successfully stayed up all night without even intending to do so.

There had been music playing earlier, and now it’s entirely silent.

Alyssa had been dancing, even managing to drag James up a bit as well.

The bottle of wine on the table was full once upon a time, and now it’s empty.

James only drank half of his glass, and yet somehow between him and Alyssa, it’s been totally finished.

And now Alyssa, stumbling a bit, clumsily makes her way over to the couch beside James and plops down, their knees brushing. The room is quiet, and Alyssa decides that that just won’t do.

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“Is the room spinning?”

“No. You’re just drunk.”

“Oh. Okay.”

A beat of silence passes. She inches closer, their shoulders bumping now.

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I cuddle you?”

“Yeah.”

A happy squeal (which sober Alyssa would deny until her dying day) rings through the room, snuggling up to his shoulder with almost child-like glee.

And it almost,  _ almost  _ makes James smile.

He doesn’t  _ usually _ smile, but Alyssa has found ways to bring it out in him, the simple little things suddenly causing a burst of happiness to go through him, something he hasn’t really felt in a while.

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah.”

Another delighted giggle slips out as she sits up, pulling his face to her level by the collar of his sweater.

They’re still both quite new at this; the way their teeth sort of clash and the awkward fumbling of it all is not just a product of Alyssa’s drunkness.

In fact, the taste of wine on her tongue and her newfound eagerness is actually helping James sink into it, no longer feeling like he’s playing a character, but actually feeling like he’s kissing her with all that he’s got.

And well, to be honest, he doesn’t have much.

His childhood had ripped a lot away, and he was slowly trying to put those pieces back together.

When it comes to Alyssa, he doesn’t feel whole, or fixed, or perfect.

He just feels human.

Not entirely fulfilled, but just a little bit fuller than before.

He only wishes he had the words to tell her that. His social skills are not quite up to par, though hers are equally as questionable.

Alyssa had always felt full, like the word was filling her with thoughts and feelings and texts and hateful words.

Her childhood filled her with too much sadness, too much fear.

She simply had  _ too much _ , and she had been glad to leave it behind.

Now, with James, she feels freer.

Not entirely free, of course, but certainly freer than she had before.

“James?”   
“Yeah?”

“Do you like me?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, actually though?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I like you?”

“I dunno. Sometimes I just feel like no one could ever like me.”   
“Me too. But, I mean, I like you.”

“Okay. I like you too.”

“Thanks.”   
“No problem.”

Alyssa gleefully snuggles closer, burying her face in the side of his neck, making him shiver ever-so-slightly. They’ve cuddled before, yes, but never like this. This time, there’s skin on skin and Alyssa’s hot breath is tickling his skin, and her eyelashes too, actually managing to send a flush up into his normally pale cheeks.

He isn’t used to this, but he honestly doesn’t hate it either.

The sex is still something he can’t quite shake off the nerves about, but Alyssa has currently steered off that path of nymphomaniac-like tendencies. 

And James truly believes that if he told her he never wanted to, he knows she would be okay with it. But he doesn’t hate the thought of it either.

It just  _ scares  _ him, and she makes him feel less scared of the things that normally would terrify him, send him running in the other direction.

She makes him want to dive head first into life with confidence he never had before.

And Alyssa has confidence for sure, although it mostly just comes across as her being rude and occasionally depraved. James makes her want to calm down, take a breather from always being up-in-arms at the world and all that it stands for.

He makes her want to be vulnerable, which is also exactly what scares her.

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

This question is the only one he hesitates on, but when he answers, he means it.

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Okay.”

A pause.   
“I love you too.”

“Thanks.”

And because of that horrifically awkward response, Alyssa bursts into a new fit of laughter, loud and carefree, head pulling away from James to tilt back and laugh up towards the ceiling, the heavens if you will, if there even was such a fucking place, she highly doubted.

However, when James starts to laugh as well, quiet at first before it slowly builds to match hers, she thinks that maybe heaven  _ does  _ exist, in the form of another person.

Maybe.

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we go to sleep now?”

“Yeah.”

“D’you think you could you carry me?”

“I can try.”

So, they clumsily make their way to the bed, James struggling to keep Alyssa upright as they both laugh until their stomachs hurt, finally clambering into bed with hopeless grins plastered onto their faces, breathless and dizzy with happiness (and, at least in Alyssa’s case, alcohol.)

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

With their legs tangled in bedsheets, and warm bodies pressed close together, two broken people asleep beside one another, and while they weren’t totally fixed or saved or healed, maybe lying there, they made up some kind of a whole entire picture, the final pieces in a puzzle, or some other fucking lame metaphor.

An empty wine bottle, a drunk giggling girl, and her awkward boyfriend.

In their own strange, twisted way, they show their love, a way which only they understand, that makes them feel safe, and happy, and just a little bit better than before.

And, well, isn’t a bit better is better than nothing?

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, i hope you enjoyed! feedback is not only appreciated but encouraged! <3


End file.
